


Fragile

by Pseudopaws (Yuripaws)



Series: Break Me [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Blood, Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Consensual Kink, Degradation, Dom Katsuki Yuuri, Dom/sub, Dominance, Fucked Up, Humiliation, It's probably not as intense im making it seem but damn, Look man it's just fucked up be prepared idk, M/M, Masochism, Mindfuck, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Rough Body Play, Rough Sex, Sadism, Sub Victor Nikiforov, Submission, Top Katsuki Yuuri, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, Viktor Suffering, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 05:04:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10482702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuripaws/pseuds/Pseudopaws
Summary: Skaters' hearts are as fragile as glass. And so are their bodies.Viktor is shattered into pieces.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a comic until I told myself not to be a dumbass and just write it instead.
> 
> I love it when Viktor suffers I AM SO SORRY
> 
> EDIT 4/23:  
> I'm making this into a series, I guess? Every new part will be a one-shot of some fucked up shit.

Yuuri’s already speaking before he’s even halfway through the door to Viktor’s apartment-- _their_ apartment.

“Viktor! Today’s run was _great,_ I think I beat my own record!” Breathless and exhilarated, he kicks off his shoes, nearly hitting Makkachin, who has bounded into the room to pounce on the couch where Viktor is lounging.

Yuuri strips off his jacket as he makes his way to the kitchen. “It was really nice out today, too!” He snatches up a bottle of water, downing it in nearly one go. He wipes his mouth and grins. “The funniest thing happened, too, because there was this cat, and Makkachin was chasing it and the cat was so _angry_ and it made me think of Yurio. Anyway, I’m starving, what do you want for lunch?” He flops onto the couch now, breathing hard, his heart racing, but when he turns to face Viktor it stops, it all stops, the world stops and his breath catches in his throat.

Viktor’s been silent the whole time, and as Yuuri meets his gaze, he sees something in his eyes. His own eyes dart between the two of his, searching, asking, and he finds his answer. Dull blue, a storm brewing; something lurking, something dangerous.

Yuuri takes a shuddering breath now, and his eyes have not left Viktor’s. The other man’s face is expressionless, and its vacancy puts Yuuri on edge.

“Viktor?” he says softly. “Are you alright?”

Viktor’s eyes are as vacant as his face, and Yuuri feels his hysteria rising--a thrill running through him, a tingling that is terrifying. He knows that look.

Yuuri’s heart stops as Viktor finally speaks; a hoarse whisper that rings in his ears.

“Yuuri. Break me.”

\----------

They’re in their bedroom in an instant--hands flying, grabbing, squeezing, lips locked, and Viktor cries out into Yuuri’s mouth as Yuuri bites hard enough to draw blood. He kisses him hard, wanting to bruise him, and he backs him into the bed now, shoving him hard so that he lands on his back, gasping, and Yuuri is on him again, lips meeting, tongues teasing, sliding, twisting, and Viktor is moaning, running his fingers through Yuuri’s hair, tugging hard. Yuuri hisses in pain, breaking their kiss to look down at the man underneath him.

There’s something dark in the eyes that burn through him, something snarling, something that challenges him, and he feels something within himself that rises to meet it, snarling in return.

Viktor isn’t going to go down easy.

Yuuri cups Viktor’s face gently, letting his hand wander lower, towards his neck, and now his hand slowly wraps around it, and Yuuri can feel Viktor swallow hard.

“Tell me what you want,” Yuuri says softly.

Viktor says nothing, the challenge still burning in his eyes.

Yuuri’s hand tightens slowly. “Tell me,” he repeats, his voice still low, “what you want.”

The first bit of emotion finally reaches Viktor's face, and Yuuri watches his lips curve into a slow smirk. He still says nothing.

Infuriating. Yuuri squeezes, pressing on either side of his throat, cutting off the blood flow, watching the color rise in his face. It looks good against the bright gold of his ring. He leans forward, his lips brushing the other man’s ear, and he hears him trying to gasp.

“Tell me what you want,” Yuuri whispers, “or I’ll make you.”

He loosens his grip, and Viktor pants but still says nothing, and suddenly Yuuri feels him tense, sees his hands move in a flash, rising to grab his throat in return. Yuuri squeezes again, harder, and Viktor sputters, his hands dropping instead to try and dig his nails into the fingers wrapped around his neck.

Yuuri squeezes hard, jerking him this time, rising up and bringing the man with him, watching the life drain from him, his eyes starting to roll back.

“I warned you.”

He releases him now, and Viktor barely has the chance to let out a violent cough before he’s thrown onto the bed again, and Yuuri’s back on him, kissing him hard. He tastes the blood still streaked on Viktor’s lips, and it nearly drives him mad with hunger. Viktor bites him back now, and Yuuri gasps into his mouth. He twists his fingers in Viktor’s hair, yanking his head back.

“Fighting back? Or are you going to just lie there and take it?”

The last words have barely lefts his lips before Viktor shoves him off, flipping over to press him into the bed, straddling him. He grabs Yuuri by the wrists before he can attempt to take control again. He squeezes hard, reminding Yuuri that he’s so much stronger, so much bigger, and he smirks again now, looking down at Yuuri in disdain.

“Is that all? How disappointing.” He makes a mock-pouting face. “I really wanted you to break me. I must be a terrible coach! Is this why you came in second?”

“At least I don’t come first,” Yuuri sneers, and bucks upward, taking Viktor by surprise as he nearly topples off of him, losing his grip. Yuuri’s on top of him again, and he pins him down with a strength that says no, you aren’t stronger, and you aren’t bigger either. “Are you even trying?”

There’s something like anger in Viktor’s eyes, and he surges forward, but Yuuri’s hand flies to his throat again to slam him back down into the bed, squeezing hard enough to bruise. Viktor’s struggling, clawing at Yuuri’s hand desperately. 

Yuuri takes a moment to admire the lovely shade of red he’s becoming before releasing him, and in a flash he’s at Viktor’s neck, sinking his teeth into the flesh, and Viktor grits his teeth and hisses, refusing to cry out. Yuuri bites harder. Viktor squirms, clawing at Yuuri’s shoulders now, taking a shuddering breath. Yuuri bites harder. Hard enough to draw blood, and he tastes it now, a tang that he laps up eagerly, and Viktor’s entire body shudders now, trembling harder as Yuuri sucks and licks at his bruised and broken skin, leaving marks to remind him who he belongs to. 

He feels a hardness growing beneath him, pressing against his jeans, and he laughs into Viktor’s ear.

“Already? Just from a few bites? Are you really so desperate?” 

He slides his tongue into his ear, hot and wet, and Viktor makes a strained noise as he tries to push him off, but Yuuri has pinned his hands again, and as he breathes into Viktor’s ear, he feels him harden.

“Pathetic,” Yuuri whispers.

He rolls his hips down without warning, and Viktor bites back a cry. Yuuri pulls back to watch him, rolling his hips again and again, and Viktor’s face is flushed, his jaw set, refusing to make a sound. Yuuri rolls slowly, teasingly, and he lets go of the other man’s wrist. He rolls down hard again as Viktor tries to grab him, rendering him helpless, and Yuuri pulls off his own shirt now, stripping slowly.

Viktor’s eyes roam over him, the hunger in them growing stronger, and Yuuri laughs again.

“Is this enough to get you off?” He runs a hand down his bare chest, down his abs, and he sees Viktor’s eyes follow. “Do you want this? Do you want me?”

Viktor’s eyes snap back to his, and Yuuri sees the storm raging within them. It sends jolts down his spine, to see him so angry and so helpless.

“Hmm,” Yuuri hums in mock-thought, “I don’t think I like this on you, either.” He tugs on Viktor’s shirt now. It’s a button-down, and Yuuri grasps it suddenly, ripping it open, the buttons flying, fabric tearing, and Viktor gasps. “There, that’s much better!” Yuuri says, grinning. As he drops down to bite at his neck again, Viktor tries to grab him, and this makes Yuuri _furious_.

He seizes him by the throat again, shaking him. “Did I say you could fucking touch me?” He snarls. Viktor says nothing and tries to rise again, trying to shove him off, and Yuuri fucking _snaps_. He shakes him harder, squeezing until Viktor nearly blacks out.

“ _Do. Not. Touch. Me._ ” he grinds out. “Are you misbehaving on purpose? Do you want me to hurt you?”

“You wish,” Viktor wheezes out.

Yuuri smiles at this. “Yeah. I do wish. And my wishes come true, because here I am, and here _you_ are.”

He waits until Viktor is on the edge of consciousness before letting go, lunging for the nightstand to rummage through its drawers, and has just enough time to grab the rope he’s been searching for before he’s yanked back and thrown face-first onto the bed. He feels Viktor’s weight on him, and he struggles as Viktor leans forward to whisper in his ear.

“Aww, for me? How thoughtful.”

Yuuri feels the rope binding his wrists together, and he grinds his teeth furiously.

“When I have you again, you’ll fucking regret it, Nikiforov.”

Viktor’s lips brush against his ear now. “Обещаешь?” He purrs.

Yuuri shudders, fighting down his arousal. The fucking _asshole_. He won’t give him the satisfaction.

Viktor presses him from behind, grinding his hips against Yuuri’s ass, and Yuuri feels how hard he is. “What, are you gonna come now?” He starts to laugh, but bites down hard on his lip as Viktor bucks against him harder.

“Well,” he whispers again into Yuuri’s ear, “I guess I’ll have to, since you can’t even make me.”

Yuuri moans suddenly, deep and throaty, the moan that always drives the other man crazy, and rolls his hips up. Viktor groans, taken off guard, weakened by the sound, and Yuuri seizes that moment to roll from beneath him. His hands have been slowly struggling to release his bonds, and he pulls them free now, and as Viktor lunges at him, Yuuri slips the rope around his neck in a flash, crossing the ends and pulling hard. Viktor coughs, trying to breathe, and Yuuri laughs again.

“You’re pretty shit at tying knots. Here, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Viktor’s the one face-down now, his wrists bound securely tight, and Yuuri grabs a fistful of his beautiful silver hair, yanking his head back. His lips trail up from his shoulder to his ear. “Да. Обещаю.” he breathes, and he feels Viktor melt beneath him. He presses his face back into the bed now, his hands trailing down his back, pulling up the remains of his shirt. He doesn’t take it off, because he loves fucking a half-naked Viktor. Something about it is just...

His lips are on his back now, making their way down his spine, kissing gently, lightly, his breath ghosting skin. Yuuri tugs at his pants with his teeth, growling. His hands wrap around Viktor’s hips to unbutton them, and Viktor makes a strained sound as Yuuri’s hands brush against his bulge. 

Yuuri takes a moment to ghost his fingertips over it, and Viktor twitches, making another sound of frustration. Yuuri tugs down his pants now, and his briefs as well, and Viktor gasps as he feels Yuuri’s fingertips running lightly over his freed cock.

“Hmm,” Yuuri hums, “you’re too hard. Don’t bore me. If you come too soon, I’ll strangle you unconscious.”

He can’t tell if Viktor is afraid or aroused. Probably both. He leans in to kiss his cheeks now, still breathing teasingly over the skin, and Viktor squirms beneath him. His lips find his hole, and he runs his tongue around the rim, ever so lightly. Viktor makes a muffled sound, trying not to groan as Yuuri licks harder. He kisses now, lips sucking, teasing, and Viktor tries and fails to hold in a whimper as Yuuri’s tongue enters him. It dips in and out, in and out, withdrawing to swirl around the rim again, and Viktor’s thighs begin to tremble.

Yuuri pulls back suddenly and brings his hand down hard on Viktor’s cheeks, and the man buries his face into the sheets to hide his gasp.

“I said not to bore me. Are you shaking already? I haven’t even fucked you yet.” He leans over him, lips against his ear again.

“And you still haven’t told me what you want.”

Viktor snorts, and then bites back a yelp as Yuuri strikes him again. He does it again, and again, and again, harder each time, and with his other hand, Yuuri grabs Viktor by the hair before he can bury his face into the sheets again.

“If you’re going to scream, don’t be a little bitch about it. Let me hear you.”

Viktor’s jaw is clamped shut, refusing, and Yuuri sighs. He’s being so rebellious today. He must be dying for punishment. And Yuuri would give it to him.

He slaps his ass again, and Viktor grinds his teeth, still refusing to give in. Yuuri spanks him over and over, even harder than he did before. He sees the skin redden, and decides that he’d like to see it bruised. He’s lost track of how many times his hand has come down, firm and swift, but with the next strike, Viktor finally cries out. His eyes are stinging with tears, though he refuses to let them fall. He’s breathing heavily, panting, his face as red as his ass now.

“That’s not what I want to hear. Not even close.”

He doesn’t bother keeping count now, but by the time a scream finally escapes Viktor’s lips, he sees that he’s red and bruised, hands imprinted, skin raw. Viktor is shaking hard now, his breath rattling, but he _still_ isn’t crying yet. No, that won’t do.

He drops to kiss the bruises, his breath light, and Viktor shivers. He licks them now, and Viktor shivers harder. Yuuri sinks his teeth into the raw and broken flesh, and Viktor cries out, and as Yuuri bites again and again, long and hard, Viktor loses his composure, crying out over and over. 

“Y-yuuri, pl-please!”

Yuuri withdraws. Oh?

“Yes?” he asks sweetly.

Viktor groans, turning his head away, refusing to say any more. Yuuri tugs at the rope binding the man’s wrists. “You know, it’s rude to ignore someone.”

Viktor does it anyway.

Yuuri rises to undo his jeans, sliding them and his briefs down just enough to draw his cock out. He shakes his head, making a tsking sound.

“I’m not even fully hard. You really aren’t trying, are you?”

Viktor growls, struggling against his bonds, but Yuuri grabs his hips, pressing them against him. He slides his cock between Viktor’s cheeks, slow and teasing, and Viktor is shuddering again, biting back another groan. Yuuri rubs his head against his hole, around the rim, and as he gently pushes in just the tiniest fraction of an inch, Viktor gasps loudly, body tensing in anticipation.

Yuuri draws away, laughing. “Did you really think I was gonna fuck you? Really?”

Viktor whimpers, body still tense, and Yuuri runs his fingers lightly along the ruined flesh of his ass. He makes a tsking sound again.

“No, you don’t deserve it. I’d love to take you dry, to make you bleed, but you don’t deserve it.”

He rolls Viktor over now, and smirks at his red face, sweat running down it, lips swollen and bleeding, chest heaving, and his cock, so very hard, so very desperately hard. Yuuri brushes a finger so lightly over the head that he doesn’t even touch skin, and Viktor arcs back, groaning.

“Wow!” Yuuri’s grinning, excited. “You’re so sensitive today!”

He frowns suddenly. He’s just looked into Viktor’s eyes, and he doesn’t like what he sees there. There’s a fire burning, challenging. A soul chipped but intact. A mind weakened but still sane.

No, he thinks, that won’t do at _all_.

Viktor squirms against his bonds again, and Yuri decides that he needs more secure restraints.

His hand shoots out to wrap around Viktor’s throat again, clamping down mercilessly, and Viktor nearly blacks out in an instant. Yuuri takes his opportunity to quickly untie his wrists, bringing them up to the metal frame of the headboard and securing them to the bars. He wraps and knots multiple times to secure them further, because he’s going to make Viktor writhe in pain.

Viktor gasps out, choking, and struggles, but finds that his wrists can’t move an inch. Yuuri runs a finger down his chest, down his stomach, stopping just before his cock. Viktor growls in frustration as Yuuri runs his fingers up and down his thighs. He feels them quiver deliciously, fueling his hunger, and his eyes never leave Viktor’s as he lowers his head, and Viktor tenses again, breathing hard--anticipating, desperate. He growls again, twisting angrily as Yuuri’s mouth presses against his thighs instead of his cock. 

Yuuri laughs against his skin, breathing and licking and sucking lightly, and now Viktor quivers harder, withholding his gasps. He’s now withholding cries of pain, as Yuuri sucks hard, bites hard, grabs hard. And he moves now, across Viktor’s thighs, biting and sucking, marking and bruising, and Viktor’s trembling is becoming more frenzied now, his breaths coming harder, shuddering, nearly sobbing, but he refuses to cry out. Yuuri can feel him on edge, teetering, and he chooses a spot closest to his cock, to his balls--the sensitive flesh, so very sensitive, and he bites _HARD,_ hard until he tastes blood.

He gets the reaction he wanted. Viktor arcs his back, _screaming,_ and Yuuri thinks he can hear him sobbing, and as much as he’d like to pull back and enjoy the sight of his tears, he isn’t done with him yet. After all, he’s got another thigh.

Yuuri does the same on the other side, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin, and Viktor screams again, writhing, sobbing harder, “ _Oh please, Yuuri, please, God, **YUURI!**_ ” 

Yuuri surfaces, licking his lips, and he grins now, because Viktor’s face is twisted in pain, tearing streaking down his face, his breath coming in sobs that wrack his entire body.

He reaches out to grab Viktor’s chin, jerking his head up to search his eyes. Glazed, nearly vacant. But intact. There’s still a mind lurking behind those eyes.

But not for long.

Yuuri kisses his neck, kisses the bitten skin, the bruises made by his fingers, kissing, and Viktor makes a small noise. Yuuri kisses harder, harder, and now he’s sucking, sucking so very slowly, leaving marks as he goes. Viktor’s neck, his shoulder, down his chest. Marking, claiming.

“You belong to me.”

Viktor makes another noise that may have been a groan of protest.

“Oh? You don’t agree?”

Viktor says nothing, his head turned away.

Yuuri smirks. There are other ways to mark his territory. His fingers press against Viktor’s lips now, teasing, passing over bruises and dried blood. He slips a finger into his mouth. Viktor makes a muffled sound, and Yuuri slips a second finger in. He tugs playfully at his bottom teeth, hooking his jaw, and before Viktor can make another sound, Yuuri pushes his fingers towards the back of his throat.

Viktor gags, his teeth coming down on Yuuri’s fingers, and Yuuri raises his other hand to slap him across the face. Viktor’s eyes widen in shock, his cheek reddening, stinging.

“Don’t do that again. And don’t gag, either.”

He presses his fingers back again, slowly, and when Viktor gags again, he slaps him harder. Tears of pain are in his eyes now, and he’s breathing harder.

“What did I just say?”

Viktor can barely let out a muffled whimper before Yuuri shoves his fingers down further, and Viktor gags hard, his throat seizing. Yuuri slaps him so hard that he screams around Yuuri’s fingers, and the tears are flowing now.

Yuuri hooks his jaw again, yanking his head closer. He stares into eyes that are full of fear, a primal fear--prey about to be torn apart.

“If you gag,” Yuuri says slowly, ”on my cock, I will snap your fucking neck.”

Viktor’s eyes widen further, and he whimpers again. Yuuri wriggles out of his jeans, tossing them aside, and he grabs Viktor by the hair now, yanking him up further, positioning him so that his lips are leveled perfectly with Yuuri’s cock as he straddles his chest. He rubs the head along Viktor’s lips, feeling them tremble, then pushes it into his mouth. He lets out a shuddering breath. So hot, so _wet,_ and he pushes in further and further, and is pleased to see that Viktor hasn’t gagged, although he can see his throat working hard to stop himself from doing so. Yuuri slides out, then in, slowly, relishing the feel of Viktor’s sweet lips wrapped tightly around his cock.

He looks down at him, quirking an eyebrow. “Well? Get to work.”

Viktor obeys at once, taking Yuuri into his mouth, sucking, licking, in and out, in and out, and he draws back to swirl his tongue around the head and up and down the shaft, and brings him into his mouth again. In and out.

Yuuri grits his teeth, biting back his moans. “God,” he growls, “you feel so good, so fucking good.” He runs his fingers through Viktor’s hair, tugging. “Faster. No, faster. Fucking  _faster_.” Yuuri snarls in frustration.

He grabs his head firmly, keeping him still, and thrusts into him. Viktor makes a strangled sound, and Yuuri feels his cock twitch.

“Yeah, choke on it. _Choke_ ”.

He thrusts again, and again, and again, faster and faster, harder, fucking his mouth, fucking his face, and Viktor is making muffled sounds, whimpering, struggling against his bonds. Yuuri pants, thrusting faster into his mouth, letting himself build up, letting it rise, and when he looks down into Viktor’s eyes and sees nothing but mindless lust, he moans, loudly and shamelessly, pulling out to come on his face. Viktor gasps for air, his face dripping, hot and thick, splattered, marked. _His_.

Yuuri yanks his head back to look into his eyes again.

“You belong to me.”

Viktor, still panting, looks up at him, dripping with cum; thick and white, trickling down his face. Yuuri smears it across his lips with a thumb, pushing it into his mouth. Viktor sucks on it obediently. Yuuri is _thrilled_.

But he isn’t done with him quite yet. He slides down his chest, kissing, sucking, trailing down. Viktor tenses as he feels Yuuri’s breath against his cock. His own breathing quickens. He twitches desperately. Yuuri’s tongue darts out, licking the head, and Viktor’s eyes roll back, his back arcing. Yuuri withdraws, frowning.

“You’re too close. I don’t want you to come. Not yet. Not anytime soon.”

Viktor stares at him, wide eyed, as Yuuri slips off the bed.

“Y-yuuri?” he whispers hoarsely.

Yuuri gives him a cursory glance over his shoulder as he walks out of the bedroom. “I’ll come back when you’ve calmed down a bit.”

Viktor makes a high whining sound, falling limp against his restrains, panting, whimpering.

\----------

Yuuri closes the door to the bedroom and falls back heavily on it. He’s breathing hard and he’s trembling, and he’s trying to calm himself as best as he can. Makkachin bounds over, whining softly. Yuuri pets him, feeling guilty. “It’s alright, boy. We’re okay. Don’t worry.”

Yuuri leans his head against the door again, closing his eyes.

When Viktor had approached him with this at first, Yuuri could only stare in disbelief.

“I-I, um, y-you want me to _what?_ ”

“Break me,” Viktor had repeated, very nonchalantly. Yuuri had seen something strange in his eyes, and Yuuri had found it both scary and exhilarating.

It was slow at first. Viktor would never force Yuuri into anything. With time, Yuuri found that he liked being on top, he liked being dominant, and most of all, he liked to hurt. He liked to hurt Viktor. He had felt terrible about this urge, but Viktor saw it in his eyes, and he had cupped Yuuri’s face so gently, telling him that he himself liked to be hurt. He liked to be hurt by him. They had tried things, new things, different things, and Yuuri had felt like a beast finally uncaged, finally able to hunt.

VIktor had always told him not to stop. Not until he said the word, and Yuuri had agreed, but he was nervous, because he had never done this kind of thing before.

Viktor hasn’t said his word yet, but Yuuri’s still worried. He was doing exactly what Viktor had told him to do--the things he liked, the things he wanted, and Yuuri hopes he’s doing a good job. He grabs another water bottle from the kitchen, gulping down half of it. He closes his eyes again and takes a steadying breath.

\---------

Viktor stirs as Yuuri re-enters the bedroom, his eyes wide with fear as Yuuri approaches. Yuuri presses the water bottle against his lips, and Viktor nearly chokes as he drinks desperately. Yuuri pulls away.

“Slowly. You’ll throw it all up, and that would make me _very_ angry. Here, drink. I need you alive for the rest of the day.”

After he throws the empty bottle aside, he lets his gaze sweep over Viktor’s body. So broken, so very broken. Swollen, bruised, bleeding, marked, torn. Face smeared with sweat, blood, tears, and cum. Yuuri loves it. He traces the marks lightly with a finger, and Viktor makes a small gasping sound. Yuuri’s pleased to see that his cock is limp, although he sees it begin to harden at Yuuri’s touch.

Yuuri climbs on top of him again, straddling him. He looks down at Viktor, at this broken mess of a man.

“I’m going to fuck you.” Yuuri says flatly. “I’m going to fuck you, and I’m going to break you.”

Viktor gapes at him, and starts to tremble.

Yuuri reaches into the drawer of the nightstand again, drawing out the lube. His eyes never leave Viktor’s as he coats his fingers thickly and pushes one into him. Viktor gasps weakly, starting to squirm. Yuuri pushes in a second one. Viktor whimpers, squirming harder. Yuuri pushes in a third, and Viktor moans softly, bucking his hips slightly.

Yuuri coats himself now, his cock hard again, and he strokes it slowly, letting Viktor watch, letting Viktor see what is about to destroy him. Viktor trembles harder, his breath catching.

He slides into him slowly, exhaling just as slowly, and _fuck_ , Viktor is so tight, so hot and wet, so thickly wet, and _so fucking tight_.

“Fuck,” Yuuri hisses as he buries himself completely. Viktor had been gasping, moaning, whimpering, and squirming desperately as Yuuri had entered him, and now he’s shaking, tense, and Yuuri feels him, clenched tight around his cock.

He slides out just as slowly, and before Viktor can whine in protest, he slams back into him, and Viktor cries out, “ _Yuuri!_ ”

He thrusts into him harder, and Viktor moans, gasps, shaking, his head thrown back. Harder, faster, and Viktor bites his lip, whimpering loudly. Yuuri grips his waist hard, fingers digging in, nails sinking in, and he slams him harder, grunting and growling with each thrust. Viktor’s back arcs, nearly screaming, and Yuuri lurches forward, grabbing Viktor’s legs and swinging them over his shoulders. He looks down at him, looks into his eyes. There’s still something in them. Something coherent.

To break the body is one thing. To break the mind requires finesse. Control.

“Look at you,” Yuuri whispers. “Look at you, Viktor Nikiforov. World famous athlete. And just look at you now.”

Viktor’s eyes widen, and he stares up at him blankly.

“What would people say if they saw you like this? Bruised,” he thrusts, “bleeding,” thrust, “sobbing,” thrust, “covered in cum and begging for more. What would they say?”

Viktor gasps and moans with every thrust, and his cock is hard again, throbbing desperately. Yuuri smirks at it.

“You’re so fucking desperate. You always have been. Desperate for attention, desperate for fame, desperate for _me_.” He increases his pace, watching Viktor writhe beneath him, and he sees the tears in his eyes. Good.

“I idolized you, but you _loved_ me. You were _obsessed_. You were fucking insane, desperate, wanting me, _needing me_.”

He’s pounding into him now, adjusting his hips until he hits a spot that makes Viktor _scream_. He fucks him hard, fucks him deep, and Viktor is screaming, sobbing, frenzied, writhing and bucking madly.

“Yuuri!” he sobs. Yuuri grabs his throat.

“No. You don’t deserve to have my name on your lips. You don’t deserve any of me. You don’t deserve me at all. I’m too good for you, and you know it, and that’s why you cling to me so desperately. You’re pathetic.” He’s snarling now, and he’s fucking him hard enough for his eyes to roll back, his screaming incoherent, and he’s sobbing, sobbing so hard that it wracks his body nearly as much as Yuuri’s thrusting.

Yuuri grips the headboard with one hand, his other still wrapped around Viktor’s throat.

“I love doing this,” Yuuri breathes. “I love your neck, your throat, bruising under my fingers. I love seeing the blood cut off, and I love hearing you gasp, seeing the light fade from your eyes.” He sneers down at him, gripping the headboard tighter as he pounds into Viktor harder. Viktor is screaming himself hoarse, face streaked with tears, crying out. 

“You’re weak. So weak. Imagine what people would say if they knew you were so weak. If they knew how easily I can break you. You’re fucking sick. You’re getting off to this. What would people say?”

Yuuri can’t tell if Viktor is screaming or sobbing anymore. He releases his throat to grab his cock now, and Viktor arcs his back and screams, crying and begging desperately, incoherently.

Yuuri leans in. Closely. Staring him down. Staring into something so nearly broken, so chipped and cracked.

Almost there.

"Tell me what you want.”

Viktor throws his head back, screaming as Yuuri continues to drive into him mercilessly, and as Yuuri pumps his cock he sobs, “ _YUURI, BREAK ME, **PLEASE**_.”

Yuuri’s lips brush Viktor’s ear.

“ _I don’t love you._ ”

Viktor shatters.

He screams as he comes, coating Yuuri’s hand thickly, burst after burst, desperate, denied, pent up, and he’s sobbing, sobbing so hard, and Yuuri grabs his face, tilts his face up towards his.

Viktor’s eyes are dead.

Yuuri bucks wildly, throwing his head back, moaning, coming inside Viktor, so very deep inside. Marking him. _You belong to me_.

Viktor is sobbing hard, chest heaving, face screwed up in pain, and tears, endless tears, sobbing, hysterical, weeping, broken. When Yuuri unties him, he slides down limply. Yuuri grabs up a soft towel that he keeps by the bed and wipes his face gently. The tears don’t stop, but the blood and cum are wiped away, and Yuuri wipes the rest of his body as best as he can. 

Viktor won’t stay still, because he’s sobbing hard enough to spasm, and Yuuri tosses aside the towel, reaching for him, drawing him close. Viktor is still sobbing, and with his freed hands he covers his face. Yuuri pulls them aside gently and kisses him, over and over, kissing his tears, kissing his shuddering lips.

He draws the other man into his chest, burying his face into his beautiful silver hair.

“Viktor,” he whispers, “I love you. I love you, Viktor. It wasn’t real. It was pretend, remember? I didn’t mean anything I said. It was pretend, it was okay, remember all the other times? I love you. I’ve always loved you. You’re beautiful, the most talented person I’ve ever met, and if it weren’t for you, I’d never be the person I am today. I love you so much. I’d give my life for yours. It wasn’t real. Nothing I said was real. It was pretend. It wasn’t real. The only thing that’s real is that I love you. Viktor. Витя. Мой Витя.”

Viktor’s sobbing slows, his breath hitching, whimpering, trembling. He buries closer to Yuuri, wrapping his arms around him.

Yuuri kisses the top of his head. “ Милая моя,” he whispers. “Солнышко моё.  Дорогая моя.  Ангел мой.  Я тебя люблю.”

He repeats this softly, gently tracing aimless patterns along his back, kissing his hair, holding him close.

After Viktor’s sobbing had mostly subsided, Yuuri rises. “Come on, let’s go bathe.”

Viktor grabs his arm, panicking, “Don’t go. Please. Yuuri, don't leave me!"

Yuuri helps him rise. “You’re coming with me, remember? Come on.”

As he draws the bath, Yuuri sits Viktor down on a stool and reaches for the warm mug on the counter. It was tea, chamomile tea, and it was Viktor’s favorite. He often had it on hand, because he had this sort of portable tea maker that he kept in the bathroom--one of many random strange fancy things Viktor owned that Yuuri just kind of accepted. But the tea was already ready, always hot, and always needed.

He brings him the mug now, pressing it into his hands. They tremble, so Yuuri holds them, supporting them as Viktor drinks. His eyes close, and Yuuri sees him visibly relax, though he’s still shaking, shaking as though he were cold. 

The tub is full now, and Yuuri pours in some fragrant oil that smells of lavender and chamomile. He adds that flower now, dried and crushed, sprinkling it into the water and watching the swirls form. Then the blossoms themselves now, a sunny yellow rimmed with white, and they fall from his hand and into the bath, floating gently on the water.

This is the sort of thing Viktor likes--fragrant things, calming oils. He had said it was aromatherapy, and Yuuri had immediately rushed to learn everything about it. He wanted to make Viktor happy. That’s all he’s ever wanted.

Yuuri guides him into the tub, and he slowly submerges himself. The warm water seems to soothe him, and he lays his head back, eyes closed. Yuuri soon follows, and he grabs up one of the soft bath sponges that Viktor seems to like to collect, as there were at least seven of them. Yuuri just kind of accepts this as well. Viktor's favorite is the brown one, which Yuuri had found odd until Viktor had explained that it reminded him of Yuuri's eyes. He brings it to Viktor’s face and wipes away what he couldn’t remove with the towel, moving down his body, making sure every inch of him is clean. Safe.

Despite the blood, the wounds had been shallow, and Yuuri inspects them closely. They’d be fine, he decides. He had stocked up on creams and salves for times like these, anyway, and they always kept a first-aid kit nearby.

He kisses the bruises, the marks, the cuts, and Viktor winces a little but doesn’t protest. Yuuri takes his hands again, kissing the rope burns on his wrists, kissing his fingers, kissing his gold ring.

Viktor is staring down at the water listlessly, his gaze wandering to follow the floating blossoms every now and then.

“Витя,” Yuuri calls softly. He hopes his Russian has improved since he’d moved to St. Petersburg. Sometimes it was the only thing Viktor responded to when he was like this.

Viktor looks up at him, and Yuuri’s heart sinks. His eyes are dull, vacant. There’s nothing there.

He pulls him into his arms, and they lay there, Viktor’s head buried in the crook of his neck, and Yuuri holds him closer, tighter.

“I love you,” he whispers. He hopes he knows that.

He says it again as they dry themselves, and again as Yuuri rubs soothing salves over his wounds and bruises, and again as he holds him in a freshly remade bed. The new sheets smell like chamomile. Makkachin jumps up to curl against them, licking Viktor's palm.

Yuuri strokes Viktor’s hair until he falls asleep, whispering his love for him over and over until he drifts off as well.

\----------

Yuuri’s up early the next morning, preparing breakfast. He’s on edge, his heart racing, nervous and afraid. He’s always like this after it happens. He’s afraid to see Viktor in the morning, afraid of seeing what he had done to him.

He doesn’t understand exactly why Viktor wants this. He doesn’t know where it came from, or what caused it, or if anything even caused it at all. He doesn’t understand himself either, so he accepts Viktor for what he is, and hopes that Viktor accepts him in return. That’s what they had always said to each other. 

But Yuuri’s the type to worry, and as he hears Viktor enter the room, he tenses up.

“Viktor, I-I made your favorite,” he says, trying to stop himself from trembling.

He feels arms encircle him from behind, and feels Viktor’s chin on his shoulder.

“Smells great. I hope you made extra, because I’m _starving_.”

Yuuri turns to face him. Viktor has the disheveled and half-asleep look of someone who’s just rolled out of bed, and his smile is gentle and warm.

“Good morning, Yuuri,” he says softly, his arms still around him.

Yuuri looks into his eyes, darting back and forth between them, searching for an answer. He finds it--he sees the laughter, the mischief, the carefree happiness that he’s used to seeing, and Viktor’s eyes are so blue, and they’re bright as he looks down at him; they’re bright and full of life.

Yuuri exhales in relief, throwing his arms around him and pulling him closer.

“I love you, Viktor.”

Yuuri can hear the sly grin in his voice without even looking up.

“I know."


End file.
